


And So I Remain

by unrestricted_obsessions



Series: When All Else Fades, Will You Return to Me? [8]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Epilogue, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Memories, The Shire, Thorin is a Softie, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Uncle Thorin, Young Frodo Baggins, tw brief vague mention of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestricted_obsessions/pseuds/unrestricted_obsessions
Summary: You have wished it of me, so I have returned. I would do anything for you, and so I will stay.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: When All Else Fades, Will You Return to Me? [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054544
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	And So I Remain

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so epilogue time! I hadn't expected to write this at first, but user JuniAsat gave me an idea of a peaceful aftermath, which, in all honesty, Bilbo and Thorin have earned (despite being idiots, but we all love them really). Yes, I have messed with timelines a little in terms of Frodo's age and when he was adopted, as well as Thorin's age, though he is already portrayed as younger in the movies so that's not much of a change. This is mainly just fluff, but there is some 'memory' stuff which just fits better with the whole style of this series. Hope you enjoy! As always, feedback and/or constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged.

"Then the burglar turned away from his friends and back to Gandalf, a faint smile upon his face, thinking of home. He left behind stone and gems, all except one chest forced upon him from the Company, and traded it all for his return to rolling green hills and a warm hearth.  
  
I'm afraid that very soon after, I woke up -" said burglar perked up at that, having crept into Frodo's room without nephew nor husband noticing, as a result of these supposed thief-like skills. He spoke without warning, a loud sarcastic voice interrupting the low thrum of 'Uncle No.2's' own words.  
"Oh yes, and what a shame that was! But I believe you have left out quite a lot of the story – which you know very well." Quite obviously that first remark was the one dripping with wit, and though the second was still filled with a fair degree of cynicism, it was accompanied with a pointed glance at the startled dwarf.  
  
He soon composed himself and responded. "Mm," he hummed, reaching out to request that the distance between them be closed. It was Bilbo who moved, stepping forward into the open arms to sit on his nephew's bed. Thorin held him closely, pressing a brief kiss against the curls atop his head, before turning and doing the same to Frodo.  
  
"You forget, ghivashel, that we have heard the tale of your belongings being auctioned away many times. This is a new perspective." One long overdue, in the mind of a certain young hobbit (whose storytime had just been rudely interrupted). It had been well over three years since Thorin had promised to tell him the missing segments in Bilbo's account of the tale. And how many there were - it had taken many evenings until they finally arrived to the point of the battle's end! Nonetheless, Frodo shushed them both and beckoned for the dwarf to continue, no doubt in what he considered as an intimidating, demanding manner, when in truth his guardians simply shared an amused glance. They quietened instantly.  
  
“Though I was finally awake, it still took me many months to be permitted to do practically anything; my body was taking a long time to heal...”  
  
Thorin allowed himself to fall into remembrance as he continued, in comfort with his love at his side and a small hand resting in his own. He had already admitted as much to Bilbo, but what he didn’t plan on telling his nephew was that during those long, torturous months, he fell into a deep trance of depression. This is an ailment much like dragon sickness, in that it is a disease of the mind, yet it affects in a much different way. It is a pit of grief and despair which convinces you to keep digging, as well as forcing you to believe it is inescapable. Those suffering from it isolate themselves; they lose all motivation, productivity and energy.  
  
Ironfoot remained in the mountain after Thorin had been deemed in no state to rule, and though he hadn't been a very present figure in his younger cousin's life until that point, he was surprisingly supportive, in the rough, very Dáin-like manner through which he showed compassion. Though it seemed like he had been on the verge of mentioning something, he always managed to refrain himself - a surprising turn, but one Thorin appreciated nonetheless.  
  
The entire Company had thought differently of what was best for him. Glóin was the only dwarf who hadn't participated in some scheme or conversation, though he often sent a mixture of pitying and judgemental stares. Sweet Ori had attempted distractions, forcing him into walks or exploration outside, disguised as contemplation over the progression of Erebor's agriculture. Bofur, Balin and Fíli had been the most gentle, however, facing his issues and offering counsel or comfort, whilst still being realistic, and though he always had been, he found himself extremely proud of his nephew's wisdom. Kíli on the other hand (not that Thorin wasn't just as proud of him), formed a pact with Nori in causing as much trouble as possible, trying to rouse him into any emotion other than grief, even if it was anger or frustration. They at least hoped to get him on his feet, being productive in the fixing of this mischief. It never worked, nothing ever did. Óin approached from a more scientific perspective, providing such things as peppermint tea, whereas Bombur bombarded him with a vast variety of sweet foods. Dwalin, Bifur and Dori confronted him with the harsh realities, daring him to pull himself together and make a change.  
  
Thorin knew they meant well, and he was grateful for their efforts, but he couldn't bear any of it. Glóin's silence tormented him, Ori's compassion filled him with self-loathing, Fíli's struggle to understand frustrated him, Kíli made him long for happier days, Óin's tea was brimming with memories, he couldn't stomach Bombur's treats, and Dwalin... Dwalin's troup only repeated the truths which had mocked his mind day and night. Each subtle glance or interaction pushed him further and further into isolation, wishing to avoid fact, fading into fiction. A falsity where a certain hobbit was at his side, holding his hand firmly as a reassurance, and yet stroking it so gingerly. A fantasy of Bilbo being _there_ , rather than simply haunting his every thought.  
  
Of course he overcame this eventually, to a certain extent. Thorin returned to life as a King and took to the roll naturally, for even despite the additions to responsibilities and workload, it was much the same premise of leadership as he had been working by all his life. He no longer distanced himself from kith and kin, allowing himself to experience and laugh again. Throughout all this, the deepest, darkest corners of his mind whispered maliciously. He still missed his burglar terribly, and was tortured to no end in the quiet moments of his private time with thoughts of him. In actuality, the suppressed misery in his head never truly faded until he was returned to Bilbo's arms. That was why he had stayed, at the sudden revelation of how much he wanted that love, so much that he was willing to give away the kingdom he had worked for all his life, finding solace in the knowledge that it was reclaimed, and his people were returned to comfort. He had done enough.  
  
"And when the time finally came for me to be officially coronated, everyone was asking after the burglar, both in and out of the Company. All had heard the tales, and expected him to return for celebrations with his friends." The little fauntling sat back up again, his interest peaked.  
"So what happened?" he inquired, leaning in closer.  
  
"I forbade anyone from sending him an invitation," at this Frodo gasped, "Not through any malice, but rather a stupidity, or cowardice - perhaps both. I had been too idiotic to think that he might _want_ to visit again, or at least know I was alive, and too afraid to face him." The former burglar huffed from beside him, but nonetheless pressed a chaste kiss against Thorin's cheek to refrain any further apologies.  
  
"From then on I caught Fíli and Kíli trying to send many letters, even after the coronation. They refused to send anything without the information of my recovery, and we are all endlessly stubborn. It was only because Dís arrived that I was practically banished from the mountain and commanded to visit the Shire, leading us to where we are today." He could remember those moments following their reunion clearly.  
  
They had remained in each other's arms for what felt like many hours, but at some point Bilbo had stepped away, fidgeting lightly from side to side. Thorin had held his hand, kneading out the tension in the muscles, waiting for him to speak his mind. When he did, it was hardly more than a whisper.  
  
"What about Erebor?" It had rendered the dwarf just as speechless. He could not ask a hobbit to abandon his life in the Shire, nor could he ask him to make the decision of either leaving Frodo, or taking him away from his friends and ordinary life. The revelation should have been more horrifying, but instead, he was in truth relieved.  
  
"I would not be parted from you, amrâlimê." Bilbo's eyes had widened at that, but he stepped forward and continued in a hushed voice.  
"Thorin, you are the _K_ _ing_ , you must return!"  
  
"Do you wish me to leave?" he had countered.  
  
"Of course not," there was no hesitation, "but I cannot be so selfish as to withhold you from the life you almost died for, from the people who need you."  
  
"Then allow me to make the selfish decisions; I wish to stay, if you will allow me. I sacraficed myself so that my people may have that life, which will not be undone through my leaving. You will be surprised to learn how wise Fíli has become, and he has so many who are loyal to him, so many who will help." He leaned closer as he spoke. "It is _I_ who needs _you._ "  
  
Bilbo's face had flushed, averting his eyes and fumbling.  
"Very well then, if you are certain. I think we can both agree we're rather useless without each other."  
  
Thorin grinned, his hand hovering delicately to cup his love's face, so hesitant that it was the hobbit who brought the contact.  
"Have we not survived this far on our own?"  
  
"Perhaps," he replied cheekily, "but we are all the better, and surely all the happier now."  
  
So the dwarf had at first written a letter to inform all concerned of his plans, before returning to the mountain temporarily. Though he did not feel concerned in abdicating (he trusted his family and friends), it wouldn't have felt right to leave them in the mess of the organisation and legal matters which came from it. He stayed until Fíli's coronation, and a few weeks into its aftermath to ensure his stability as King. This time, Bilbo was invited, along with Frodo, and though they were both enchanted by Erebor's restored grandeur, the youngest especially was soon counting the days until their return to simple, peaceful Hobbiton.  
  
Anything could ruin this, this life that Thorin had finally found contentment in, but he would fight the Valar themselves to prevent that from happening.  
  
"Uncle, you're pretty bad at telling stories." The voice brought him back to reality, to the present time, where such drastic measures were not necessary.  
  
Nothing could ruin this.

—  
  
  
  
"Hey, wake up," the gentle voice was right beside his ear, but it didn't startle him - in fact it hardly even woke him - it was so quiet. He rolled over, pulling the covers further up his arm and mumbling into the pillow.  
  
"Come on dear, get up." It took a few long moments, but Thorin finally registered his surroundings.  
  
"It's late, 'ibinê, why aren't you asleep?" He was still speaking into the pillow, so surely Bilbo couldn't have comprehended his words, but he did.  
  
"I want to show you something." The dwarf's eyes blinked into focus as he turned his head away from the bed, and he saw the grin his hobbit retained, crouched beside him on the floor to be on the same level.

"In the middle of the night?" It wasn't truly a question, and it went unanswered, because Thorin was soon pushing back the blankets and standing up. His husband led him outside, despite both of them simply being in their night-clothes, and they sat atop the hill which makes up Bag End. In the cold mist of darkness, an oak tree lay just out of sight, a mere sapling growing sturdily from the edges of the garden below them. Bilbo settled into the dwarf's side, sighing at the warmth, and Thorin wrapped his arms around him tighter. He glanced up at the stars, distantly bright in its contrast against the sky, but soon turned back to nuzzle his head into the crook of the hobbit's neck.  
  
"What is it you were going to show me?" his eyes drooped once again as he spoke, and Bilbo continued to gaze out into the shadow of West Farthing, his expression glistening in that kind way, similarly to how they had done in that brief few seconds after the Goblin tunnels and before the Wargs.  
  
"Nothing, really. I only hoped to remind you of where you were, what you have - and that I do love you. I thought you might need that." Thorin smiled, a vague, subtle thing which was more common in their quiet moments of bliss.  
"I'm sure I don't deserve it, but I shan't argue; I rather like your love." The corner of his mouth tilted wryly at that last statement, and he kept the silence only for a moment. "You are wonderful, 'ukrad. I love you too."  
  
Bilbo twisted around awkwardly for a moment, falling out of Thorin's hold to kiss him lightly on the cheek, and then once more on the lips, before slipping back down into his previous position, pulling his husband's arms around his chest and relaxing in the comfort.  
  
In fact, they were both a little too comfortable (not enough to prevent an ache in their necks the next morning), so much so that they had quickly fallen asleep like that. To be frank, they had caused Frodo quite a bit of concern when he woke, only for a certain wizard to call him outside, staring up at the two on the hill with an odd twinkle in his eye.  
  
"You know, Frodo, I think I'll come visiting tomorrow. You and your uncles might as well spend the day together - there is such wonderful weather after all. Don't you tell them I was here."  
And with that, he was walking back down through the paths of the Shire, unsure of why he had come, and even more so of where he was to go now. Frodo shouted after him in confusion, wondering why he had left after only just arriving (he had yet to learn of Gandalf's ways, and that such behaviour was quite normal for him). All he knew was that he was quite satisfied with the outcome of their Quest those few years ago.

_Most amusing indeed._

_~end_

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdul:  
> ghivashel - i'm sure we all know what this means, but for those of you who don't, treasure of all treasures  
> 'ibinê - my gem (thanks to The Dwarrow Scholar on tumblr)  
> 'ukrad - greatest heart (thanks to the Dwarrow Scholar on tumblr)


End file.
